


Silver Springs

by JamHande



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Male Aziraphale (Good Omens), Not Canon Compliant, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 10:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamHande/pseuds/JamHande
Summary: Crowley is looking for another one night stand to add to her quota. Aziraphale is a bit more than she bargained for.





	Silver Springs

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something inspired by the song 'Silver Springs' by Fleetwood Mac, and this story is a result of that. If you want to listen to the song, I strongly recommend the live version from the 1997 album The Dance.

Crowley had prowled the clubs all night, looking for a mark. It was endlessly boring and oh-so-repetitive, but she’d needed to make quota. There was nearly always a man, sometimes a woman, generally older, the stench of settled life all over themselves. Someone out ‘just reliving their younger days’ or ‘only here ‘cause it’s my birthday.’ Out of their depth, anxious to swallow the single drop of youth left inside themselves that hadn’t floated to the surface and evaporated yet. Generally obviously married, and generally obviously trying to pretend otherwise.

Crowley would sidle up to them. Brush an invisible piece of fluff from their shoulder. Laugh at the ensuing awkwardness. Laugh at their drunken confessions. ‘I really never do this.’ Smile just the right way into their eyes. A smile that promised them they were still attractive, still relevant, still alive. Leave them in the morning to bask in the heady mixture of pride and shame that she dropped like rose petals as she strolled out the door. Another box checked on the form.

Tonight she’d had no luck. Maybe she was slipping a bit. It was all so bloody obvious, she had struggled to pretend to be interested at all. The few she’d found had shuffled away, embarrassed and uncomfortable, after their quips just wouldn’t land.

She decided to walk the streets instead. It wasn’t even that late. She ached for a coffee. She spotted nearby a bookshop, still open. At this hour, that was more than odd. Might be a front for something else. Good idea, that. Even if not, bookshops had coffee sometimes. Can’t be worse than this, she shrugged.

She walked in. A bell jangled, loud. Nobody was around. Back room, perhaps?

She wandered deeper in. Smelled dust, and mold, and something else that tickled at her brain. What _ was _ that? Odd, this place. She was always on top of everything. Why hadn’t she been on top of this? This shop looked like it’d been here since George pissed blue. She slid a hand down her leather skirt, just to make sure she was still in the right century.

“Hallo?” Her voice was swallowed up by paper and dust. A mote floated into her eye. Another tickled her nose. _ Dammit. Don’t you dare, _ she warned the sneeze, just a smidge too late. 

“Bless you. Here you are, my dear.” 

She jumped. _ The fuck did he come from. _ She looked down at a man. Holding out a green striped handkerchief. Silvery-white curls. Blue eyes. Another itch in her brain.

She took the square of cloth from his hand. Soft and embroidered and really, must she use this for snot? His eyes twinkled, though. _ A kink’s a kink, Crowley. _

*****

Aziraphale stood silently, watching. This woman had hair like autumn leaves. Every color was there. Her eyes tearing up from the dust. From his dust. _ My dust inside her _. That was a strange thought. What made him think that? He felt troubled. She reached out to pick some fluff off his shoulder.

“This your place?” Her voice was smooth and low, like leaves rustling. _ Leaves again. _ Odd, this. He was wrong-footed.

“Indeed. This is my shop.” 

“Get many customers this time of night?” She smiled into his eyes. He faltered a bit.

“You -- you’re the only one.” _ She smells like the ocean _ . Again, a strange thought. He should chase this one away quickly. _ Shouldn’t I? _

Her eyes shifted away. Then back. 

“Got any coffee?” He glanced down. She held the handkerchief crumpled in her fist.

“This way,” he gestured to the back.

_ Now we’re getting somewhere, _they both thought.

*****

“Please sit down,” he pulled out a kitchen chair, standing behind it. He waited. She blinked.

She sat, finally. “Thank you.” She felt confused. She scrambled through her purse for a compact while his back was turned.

He put water on to boil. Her hands shook a bit, checking her lipstick. _ You’re definitely slipping. _

“Been here long? In the shop, I mean?” She took it all in. Maybe someone had dusted once in 1864. Maybe not.

He chuckled. “Quite a long while, my dear.”

_ My dear? _ She crossed her legs and sat back, feeling easier now. 

“How do you take it?” His voice was a bit like the bell over his shop door, somehow. Her eyes flicked over at him. “Your coffee, my dear, how do you take it?” 

“Just black.” He brought it over to her. Poured his own cup and sat down in the other chair. All the way on the other side of the table. She sipped, then frowned, a bit.

“Everything alright?” Was he really asking? 

“It’s good. The coffee is good.” It really was.

“Wonderful, then.” He smiled again. Like a beacon.

They sat a moment, silent. She looked at him over the rim of her cup.

“My, you’ve pretty eyes,” the words tumbled out of his mouth.

He looked shocked, then a bit pained. She needed to stop that pain. She stood up, leaving her half-empty cup, leaving the crumpled handkerchief, and walked over to stand in front of him.

She reached out a hand and stroked at his tie. “Got a bedroom?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

_ You’ve still got it, Crowley. _

*****

He held the bedroom door open for her. Cleared his throat. 

She walked in. He trailed behind, switched a lamp on. 

She turned in place. He watched her take it in. His bedroom. His dry, fragile treasures. He swallowed, thinking of a wave about to crest. The damage it could do.

He thought she might want to leave. His throat tightened. He shifted, moving further into the room. Leaving the door open. He watched her carefully.

She stepped towards him. He clasped his hands behind him.

Her hand reached to his throat. Pulled at the fold of his tie. Struggled to loosen it. He thought her eyes looked like leaving again.

He lifted his hands up. Held hers gently in place with one. Removed his tie with the other.

*****

She took his wrist, pulled it to her. Felt the pulse. Lifted it to her lips.

Flicked her tongue out, quick and fast. Heard him gasp.

She let his wrist go. _ What’s so different about him, really? _

Her eyes shifted to the bed. More familiar territory. She pulled him there. Pushed against his chest, gently. He lowered to sit on the edge.

“Is this alright?” The question came from her throat, even though she hadn’t planned on asking it. Frowned again.

“This is good. Are you alright, my dear?” She smiled at the question. She smelled him. _ Like good earth. _ Looked down into his blue eyes. Her brain stopped itching.

“It’s perfect,” she murmured. 

She placed a knee next to his hip. The other knee settled outside the other hip. She felt his hands rise up to hold her lower back. She looked down, smiling now. _ He won’t know what hit him. _

*****

She placed her hands either side of his head. Lowered her lips to his, hot and dry. _ That’s a new taste _, he thought. She leaned back and looked at him. He felt himself trembling.

“You sure about this?” She checked in again.

He blinked up at her. Licked his lips. No words were on his tongue. All those books, and no inspiration.

Something else kicked in. He slid a hand up her back, to her neck. Pulled her head back down close. Shifted his head a few degrees, and kissed her back. _ I like this taste. _

They stayed that way, awhile. Lips together, tongues flickering back and forth. Gentle, but insistent. 

Aziraphale’s body had forgotten the rules. His brain nudged him. _ Is this worth it? _

“Absolutely,” he breathed into her mouth. He felt her smile against his lips.

*****

Crowley moved quickly, then. Her hands shot down to his lap. She was off-balance while she unzipped his trousers. He steadied her with his hands. _ Nice hands. Strong, too. _

She groaned at herself. Thinking like a fresher. _ He’s just like the others, Crowley. _

Her hand reached underneath his shorts, pulled his length out. She stalled, shocked.

She heard the nerves in his whisper. “Is it … acceptable, my dear?”

_ Acceptable? _ She felt a pulse between her hips. Another one. Twitching.

She moaned, again without having planned it. “It’s glorious.”

Flickers of heat and curls of want built in her abdomen. _ What the fuck. _

She pulled a condom from her bra. Tore the package open with her teeth. Rolled it onto him.

She grasped his shoulders. Tried to lower herself onto him. Fumbled at the entrance. 

Tried again, biting her lip. Found it this time. Slid down, slow and breathless. Felt a swirl of need rise with it. Her eyes rolled back, control out the window. _ What … the fuck. _

*****

Aziraphale held her while she bucked. He watched her face. Couldn’t stop watching. Forgot to think about himself for a half-second, waiting for her eyes to meet his again. 

Felt the tight heat and remembered. Blew out the breath he’d been holding.

He made a sound. High and sharp. Felt a sear of triumph when she looked down at him, finally.

Golden, fiery eyes. Her fingers squeezed tight into his shoulders. His mouth lifted, wanting.

Her head shook a few degrees back and forth. He tried not to care. He was building quickly.

He held it back. Buried his face in her neck. Listened to the sounds she was making.

“Please, my dear, tell me what you like,” he pleaded. He knew he sounded desperate. He didn’t care.

She shook her head again, almost imperceptible. “Liking this,” she panted.

He didn’t think he could stall much longer. “Want you to feel good,” he groaned into her shoulder.

“Never … better,” she grunted between moans that sounded involuntary.

That sent him over the edge.

_ ***** _

Crowley smiled to herself when his eyes screwed closed. The little crinkles at the corners were tight. He jerked up into her, again and again. _ And again. Jesus. _

Her own muscles were still twitching. Still unsatisfied. _ Doesn’t matter. _

He held her close. Even after the jerking stopped. His cheeks pink and his legs trembling from the spend. Didn’t let go.

She waited. Some held on longer than others. They all let go in time. 

His eyes opened, finally. She looked into them. _ God. _

He smiled. Leaned into her. Nuzzled her neck softly. She blinked.

She moved to stand. He startled her by lifting her off of him. Settling her back down on his lap.

She leaned away. Felt a coil of something new in her gut. _ He can’t be for real. _

“I should go,” she said.

*****

Aziraphale lightened his grip on her. _ I didn’t make it good enough for her. _

His face fell for a second. He couldn’t help it. Shouldn’t have let her see it. 

He smiled. “You can stay, my dear, if you like,” he murmured. He wanted to hear her voice again. That warm, rustling sound. Like honey in whiskey.

He looked into her eyes. Lifted up a hand to her hair. Held it there, to see if she’d object. She didn’t.

He stroked her hair as he whispered. “It’s beautiful. Like autumn leaves.”

He tightened his grip on her when she began to tremble.

“Guess I can stay for awhile,” she murmured.


End file.
